Many times I have started writing this poem
M any times I have started this poem and just as many I have let it die, but is always there under deleted lines keeping me awake, whispering to my heart that wants to brake, "Let me out, write me now... you are making a mistake..." No one else feels its pain it or hears it scream, but at nights when exhausted I fall asleep it perversely haunts my dreams. Its a poem about all those things that only last for a while, things that happen and are forgotten like some loves and the wind a poem about... Sign in to see full entry.